Nailed: Resort to Murder Mystery II: Resort to Murder Mystery

Chapter 1

Porsche snapped the radio in the car off with a huff.

Honestly girl, you act as though he’s dumping you. He’s just been working hard on getting some pristine winter photos and building up his career. Porsche burst out, unable to squelch her opinion any longer.

Porsche is my best friend since high school, currently sitting in the passenger seat on our drive through the rugged Rocky Mountains. She is a gem of a friend, a feminine bundle of brains and couture, and is an Associate Professor of History at Colorado College. I had invited Porsche to come along as a mini vacation while I attended my first Resort Management conference.

She was referring to my absentee boyfriend, Mason. I had managed to avoid talking about him despite her dogged efforts, until now.

You should be a bit more enticing. A hunk like Mason may like a woman to….

Yeah, yeah wear more makeup and dress for him? I’d heard it before. He knew what he was getting before he ever pursued me. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Last fall had been a whirlwind with a murder in the Colorado Springs Resort where I work. I also broke up with my boyfriend Brandon at the time, and Mason Sheridan was eager to step into the role. But, he has been rather distant over the last four months since that time. We’ve had no real dates to speak of and he disappeared when my dad visited.

A sigh escaped me.

Would it kill you to remind him how lucky he is to have you? Remind him he is leaving you alone around eligible rich men. Remind him how you’re a desirable woman who can have any man she wants? Porsche was describing herself not me, clearly.

I don’t want to talk about it, Porsche. Now, help me find the resort.

We finally entered Vail, the largest ski area in Colorado known for producing several Olympic skiers. I’ve been skiing a grand total of three times in my life because I don’t like the cold even though I love the alpine scenery. I’m more the sipping hot buttered rum in the lodge great room or shopping rather than the skiing type.

The main part of Vail that visitors see has luxury condominiums, several first-class ski resorts, and the traditional cozy lodges that surround a small town teeming with a multitude of restaurants with something for every taste and unique shopping. As a bonus, you can expect to catch glimpses of famous celebrities occasionally.

At least we had clear weather for the drive up. I hope that storm blows through before we head back, or just fizzles out altogether. Turn right at the stop sign. Porsche directed.

The resort was a few streets over from the main road, giving it a secluded feel while still part of the town and convenient to the ski lifts.

I’m just glad to attend, Chad wasn’t happy he couldn’t get away. I had to add. Since it was already paid for when Chad, my boss, was called into meetings with the resort owner I was the lucky runner-up to attend. Now that we’re here, I wouldn’t be upset to stay a few more days if snowed in – if work pays for it that is. I couldn’t help saying.

The four-day conference on Resort Management was being considered part of my training and was a big deal for me in itself. It would no doubt be a great learning experience and opportunity to network with others in my dream career field.

Alpine Sun, the resort hosting the conference was recently named the top resort in the state. Naturally, I’m expected to reconnoiter how the Bavarian-themed luxury hotel managed the distinction and report back to management. We both had a specific high season but had to be creative to keep rooms full year round.

Upon my first view of the hotel, I was struck by how big the main building was, it seemed to take up an entire block. It was like a grand Bavarian mirage in the wilderness. It all but glowed in the pervading gloom.

Alpine Sun Resort had a classic white exterior with alpine timber framing and balconies fitted with window boxes for flowers in spring and summer. Aspens and evergreens surrounded the sides and back of the property, where a stream meandered past. The research I’d compiled hadn’t done it justice. I felt like I’d been transported to a luxury version of a Brothers Grimm fairytale.

To the right of the entrance driveway stood a large snowman around six feet tall sporting a top hat, with a tree branch speared through its head, and a bright blood red scarf around its neck greeted me. It seemed gruesome to me and a feeling of dread washed over me.

A slice of Germany. Feels quaint and cozy, don’t you think? Hope they have a German hunk available. Porsche smiled.

If there’s one on this entire mountain, I’m sure you’ll find him. Porsche attracted men with her sense of assurance and she changed boyfriends as often as her nail polish.

With any luck. She winked. Julienne, you know me, I’ll find a diversion. Don’t worry about me entertaining myself.

A uniformed valet was opening my car door before I could register his presence. At the entrance, I turned and drank in the view with a deep breath tinged with the scent of pine. The snow-draped ski slopes to the one side and the quaint town on the other were idyllic.

The ominous sky, with its roiling gunmetal and smoky gray clouds choking out the sun, was the only blemish in the lovely tableau stretched before me. This storm system was setting up to give us a good dump of powder and the skiers would be thrilled. I wasn’t too concerned. The roads weren’t usually a big issue. Colorado is fortunate to only occasionally experience road closures.

I turned and entered the hotel. I was already taking notes about the service during check in and escorting us to our room.

Our room had plush elegant fabrics in subtle mint green and white accents on European styled furniture. No rough or basic lodge décor here. There were two chairs and a table in front of the fireplace, ready for an evening spent warming up by the fire. It was a mix of classic old-world style with modern comfort for an indulgent luxury feel.

So…which of the restaurants should we try tonight? It’ll determine the wow factor of my dress. Porsche asked.

My cell phone began playing the 007-Skyfall ringtone. Mason. I silenced it.

I allowed myself a few moments to conjure him in my mind. When I met him, I nicknamed him Bond Jr. because he was a playboy and his life seemed like every man’s fantasy. Thus, I had intended to take the relationship with Mason slowly, but not this slowly. Mason was muscular with broad shoulders, shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, big hazel eyes with long lashes, a defined jaw, and long legs. Porsche describes him as a cross between Hugh Jackman and Aidan Turner.

Mason was in California now, playing bodyguard for a beautiful movie actress. He used to be Marine Special Forces and has a black belt in two martial arts. I wasn’t upset…much. Can’t blame a guy for working hard…much. It was back to that Bond Jr. issue and if that was what I wanted in my life.

I took a deep breath and pushed the distracting thoughts of Mason away. My nerves were a bit frazzled from the drive, racing the impending storm and I needed to unwind before talking with Mason. I looked through the in-room directory.

They have the casual Mountain Chalet, the more western themed Ranchhand, and the upscale Maximillian’s for restaurants plus the Royal Club that has live entertainment. Which do you prefer?

Not even taking his calls, huh?

He knows we’re driving in the mountains and can leave a message.

But we’ve arrived, we’re not driving anymore. Her hands were on her hips.

I just don’t want to talk to him right now. Is that okay? I was sharper in my reply than I intended.

She threw her hands up in surrender. No problem.

Okay, maybe I was a little more peeved than I thought. I couldn’t put exactly why I was so upset into words without sounding petty or jealous. I was safer trying to avoid the topic.

We got on the wait list of the more casual choice for thirty minutes later and with only an additional ten-minute wait we were ushered into the Swiss-themed restaurant within the resort, Mountain Chalet. The wall-to-wall blond wood paneling and flooring was saved from being overpowering by red and white table linens and other color-coordinated décor items. The theme was clearly a dressy yet casual alpine.

I was immersed in the menu choices with each description a sensual tease to my imagination when conversation stopped and all heads swiveled to the front.

A barking voice, like a yappy Chihuahua and a baying Beagle–a Cheagle, caught my attention. What do you mean I need a reservation or go on the wait-list? I’m a guest, room 321, and this is an in-hotel restaurant. The middle-aged woman had shoulder length blond hair with touches of darker honey blond in among the soft curls. She wore a coordinated ice blue sweater set with wide-legged navy-blue pants and distinctive blue metallic pumps glared at the maître d'.

The unruffled host explained that without a reservation the wait would be about ten minutes.

I’ll wait right here. I frequent nice restaurants all the time, if this isn’t worth the wait I’ll be sure to post it on Facebook to my thousand followers. She huffed, her arms crossed.

I whispered, So glad you called and got us a reservation.

Porsche nodded. Me too. She must’ve had a bad day or a rough drive up.

We had just finished ordering our wine when the woman was lead past our table. She stopped and loudly greeted a thirty-something brown haired man wearing glasses, who was clearly sitting with his wife and teenage boy. The boy wore a snowboarding tee shirt and jeans so I figured they were here for some famous Vail skiing.

Christopher, good to see you again. Her barking voice carried. The din of conversations and tinkling of silverware and glasses lessened noticeably again.

Christopher’s wife opened her mouth but Christopher shook his head and gave a slight halt motion with one hand and his wife pressed her mouth into a thin line.

Kara, you know our attorneys are used for any communication. We’ve nothing to say to you. His voice was strong yet controlled and clipped.

The boy’s eyes were large. You got some nerve woman. He blurted out then crossed his arms while shaking his head.

The room 321 woman continued walking, unfazed by the roomful of eyes on her, and sneered as she walked past another man dining with a woman. This couple seemed to be having a romantic evening because the woman was dressed to seduce with a clingy red wine colored dress. The middle-aged man with graying temples glared in return. Interesting. I do enjoy people watching.

Conversation slowly began again.

Dinner was served, and we dug in. I had ordered the Wiener Schnitzel with red cabbage and potato salad, while Porsche picked the roast duck with cucumber salad.

How is everything tasting ladies? Our waitress sang out, gliding to a stop at our table.

This is so good. Porsche gushed. My mouth was full, so I could only let out an appreciative Mmmmm.

We were quiet for a while. I was enjoying watching our fellow diners as I shoveled food into my mouith, as delicately as I could manage. I must’ve been far hungrier than I thought. I looked up to see the couple the rude room-321 woman had glared at earlier being brought a bottle of wine.

I didn’t order this wine. The man said in a voice I would’ve expected on a teen boy whose voice hadn’t fully changed yet.

The lady at the table over there sent you this wine. The waiter indicated the loud-mouthed woman of room 321 fame seated at a table towards the back with a bottle of wine and a half glass of dark red wine. She raised one hand and wiggled her fingers in a subdued wave.

Please send it back. I don’t want anything from her. His voice may have sounded youthful, but his adult refusal was unmistakable.

When the waiter left with the rejected bottle room 321, as I was calling her mentally, jumped up and confronted the man. That was rude. You can’t accept a simple token gesture? The words were loud and slurred a bit, so it sounded like a drunken Cheagle barking.

Let’s just leave, dear. The dinner companion murmured.

Bryce, we can still be civil… Room 321 woman began.

Look, Kara, I’ve moved on. Please leave us alone. He stood and strolled out with his companion on his arm.

I caught Bryce commenting, If I’d known she’d be here, we would have gone to Aspen. I swear. A note of desperation in his adolescent like voice.

Porsche and I exchanged a look and raised our eyebrows in unison. Kara had left quite the impact in her wake.

After dinner, sans dessert, we enjoyed a few drinks in the Royal Room. It had a men’s club vibe with plush oversized chairs and loveseats scattered around, thick carpet, oil paintings and sculptures throughout, and a roaring fire in a large stone-faced fireplace against one wall. The room meandered and had several sections. A local band was playing and the folksy tunes underscored the conversations all around.

Nobody from dinner was present, but conversation around us quickly turned to the presence of a loud woman acting rude when checking in and throwing her name around as a big realtor.

Oh, I know her alright. Kara Caine, Realtor Extraordinaire, A middle-aged woman who identified herself as Debra Graham spit out with contempt.

Ms. Graham had big brown eyes and a stick-thin frame in a gray velvet jogging suit. Her hair was sandy brown cut in a short bob. A caustic mix between a hiss and sizzling acid eating through metal, her voice continued on loudly enough to be heard over the band.

You know the kicker? I was supposedly her close friend. Until I volunteered and coordinated a charity luncheon, then she took credit for all my work – even got an award from the organization. Yeah, that’s her. Her voice got more acidic with each word. People think she’s something until they get to know her – the real her. She nodded her head to punctuate the point. She took a drink of wine and let others share their experiences.

We’ve sure had enough of her, a lady in designer slacks and matching sweater top spoke up. My husband Wade, she nodded her head in his direction, works for the newspaper back home and she hounds him on the message boards. She’s mean and thinks she can publicly bully him or something.

Wade’s athletic build was clad in a forest green button-down shirt with a pistachio green sweater pullover. He took a sip of his martini, flashing a Rolex, and joined the conversation, The message-boards are a public forum and all that rot, but she’s mean spirited and appears to have a personal vendetta against me. I can’t explain it, except maybe she gets a small bit of notoriety for her behavior. He shrugged a shoulder in nonchalant dismissal and nudged his designer glasses.

Porsche’s eyes grew large, Wade…Lochran? You do the editorial page for the paper, right? I didn’t know there were message boards too. She had a lopsided smirk. I wasn’t surprised she knew him since the college where she teaches was often at odds with the paper’s stances.

"The paper’s trying to offer some digital content to stay competitive. The message boards get some good use such as when we have wildfires to communicate shelters and people check in as safe. But, when one person continues to use the boards for their own personal pulpit, I don’t believe the public good is served.

I kept from laughing, barely. He did editorials containing primarily his opinions but didn’t see how listening to the people would serve the public good. Okaaaaaay. I seemed to remember that he had written some controversial editorials. There had been quite a bit of hubbub over his staunch pro-gun and pro-life stands and the flack he received because the two views are at odds. I’m sure many expressed their opinions in the forums. So, Kara felt bold enough to take him on. Interesting.

Other guests joined the conversation, mostly with stories of Kara bragging or trying to make friends in pushy and obvious ways. I couldn’t help thinking she sounded sad or even needy. We’d had a long drive and the nice dinner that prompted a desire to settle into our room, so we said goodbye to the other guests.

We decided to tour the facility first and found the spacious exercise room with everything from treadmills and ellipticals to stair-climbers that I had every intention of visiting at least once during my visit. Porsche laughed at that.

We also found the lovely indoor pool with a ten person hot tub to the side that looked like a Hollywood set. A few people were enjoying an evening swim and a group lounged in the Jacuzzi. I wanted to enjoy a luxuriant soak during my stay.

The spa was closed so we took a brochure on the services they offered and swore we would take advantage and treat ourselves.

We stepped out on the deck adjacent to the indoor pool and took in the town lights twinkling through the trees that surrounded the resort. It was a quick look since we didn’t bring our coats and the snow had begun, plus the temperature was plummeting.

On the way back to the room we discussed breakfast in the morning and walking around town before I needed to check in for the conference.

Once in the room, I slipped into my coat and stepped out on the small balcony and took a deep breath. It was good to be alone for a moment. The air was icy but invigorating. I’d needed a change of routine, a break from the job and family. The conference would be good for me.

There was no moon because the ominous sky was smothered with dark clouds. The trees surrounding the property gave the illusion of isolation. A wolf howled off to the right near the stream that I could faintly hear gurgling.

You going to call Mason back? Porsche joined me on the little deck.

Never figured you for the mother role. I